Alice Liddell is dead and Wonderland is still reeling from a revolution that spanned the entire kingdom. A new King sits upon the throne - Jack, the former Knave of Hearts and once prince and revolution leader, is learning to cope with his new position as monarch of Wonderland. The tests to find new Alices in hopes of restoring Wonderland's magic continue as her inhabitants slowly pieces her back together. Yet questions still linger: where are the old King and his Queen? And how long can the vast array of Wonderlanders keep themselves hidden from the rest of London during their increasingly frequent trips to the city so far beyond the looking glass?
Welcome to Far Beyond The Looking Glass, a present day rp based on the characters from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There. It is currently Autumn 2014 in London, England, and Wonderland is currently experiencing an autumn-like season, too. Have a look around and don't be afraid to pop in the cbox if you have a question as we're quite a friendly bunch. We hope you decide to join and welcome!

Derek was sitting in the bar with his thick coat on, scowling between the small space between his scarf and the rim of his puffball hat out the window at the snow that was steadily falling upon the street, and the idiot people dancing around in it. Derek hated the cold more than literally anyone else in the world. The root of his hatred ran back to when he’d been a cold-blooded reptile in Wonderland, but even now that he could create his own body heat, he still didn’t find the chilly weather any more appealing. So why had he bothered trekking out in this god awful weather instead of staying home in his cocoon of blankets next to the heater that may or may not have been catching on fire at this very moment on account of his stupidity? Well, as a man on the verge of complete alcoholism, it had been the five vodka bottles and three Jack Daniels – all depressingly empty that he’d dug out from various somewhat surprising places in his apartment that had thrown him into the back of a severely under-heated cab on the slippery unsafe roads he might as well have died on, in his personal opinion, to arrive at this bar to drink until he was barely coherent enough to leave, buy out the closest liquor store, and head back home to light himself on fire.<br><br>That was how his evening was going, thank you very much.<br><br>And he’d clearly been having a miserable enough time as it was, drinking his Long Island iced tea through a straw in a way that was reminiscent of the movie Penelope, when some dickwad decided to stop in the middle of the doorway as he entered the bar, leaving it wide open for the chill to get in with his outstretched arm blocking the way out while he paused to chat up some girl who was trying to leave. Now, knowing Derek, the thing about this that pissed him off was not what it should have been. As much as he himself enjoyed harassing unsuspecting girls, it wouldn’t do him any good if his balls were to freeze off, which he was very much convinced was possible. And so, in the same way most of his terrible ideas started out, Derek decided to say something. A mitten’d hand reached up to pull his scarf just loose enough to speak.<br><br><b>“Hey. Shitface. Want to close the fucking door?”</b> He said, terribly polite as per usual, <b>“<i>Some</i> of us don’t have extra blubber to keep us warm you fucking manatee.”</b>The manatee in question stopped mid-sentence when Derek spoke, and he turned to face the lump of winter attire. Derek squinted at him as menacingly as one could when intoxicated and dressed like a marshmallow.<br><br>"Wanna run that by me again?" he said. Derek was more than happy to oblige. He took the hat off his head to reveal some shocking hat hair and slurred, <b>"Sure. I called you a fucking manatee. Shut the door."</b><br><br>It wasn't long before the door was closed, but that good thing was traded off for Derek now very easily being lifted by the front of his coat onto his feet to get a better look at the manatee's angry face, apparently. Derek's eyes widened slightly in panic. The guy growled at him.<br><br>"'Least I'm not a little twig," he said. "Whataya gonna do, ya bitch? You're not so tough."<br><br>As much as this guy's breath was warming Derek's face, it wasn't a pleasant aroma. Derek decided he wanted to leave this situation he'd brought upon himself. He carefully removed his mittens and tossed them onto the table. He looked back at the guy who waited for his response, and...<br><br>Derek attempted to run, but the guy's hand still fisted in his coat held firm. The guy smirked, amused, as Derek continued to try and wriggle out of his grasp, pulling at his sausage fingers and the material of his coat, but neither budged. Some people in the bar who'd been watching snickered at the display of weakness, and Derek rolled his eyes. Reverting back to his older instincts, the skinnier man leaned in and bit his opponent, hard, right on the knuckles. With a yelp, his coat was released, and Derek scurried away. But not for long.<br><br>Derek was caught once again, this time by the back of his coat, and was dragged back by the red-faced man, with both of them ignoring the exasperated voice of the bartender threatening to call the cops.<br><br>"You little shit, you made me bleed!" He wound up his fist that was now a little red, barely bleeding, "now you're gonna get it!" Derek covered his face with his hands, completely useless in this sort of situation. He hoped that maybe someone would intervene, as if he'd ever given Karma a reason to spare him. Which he hadn't.

Hello and welcome to my wanted ad for a best friend for Derek, who is also an attorney who gives him advice and does paperwork here and there to keep him out of trouble.<br><br>Unsurprisingly, Derek often finds himself in hot water when it comes to his unconventional methods of experimentation in his profession and complete disregard for the law or human decency, so having someone competent and smooth watch his back would help a lot. Also, everyone needs at least one friend, right? So that's where Mr. Blankety Blank comes in.<br><br>The face I've chosen here is the always appealing <b>Gabe Saporta</b>, because Derek's face is William Beckett and it just makes sense (hover over suit!Gabe on the left to see a cute pic of them, oops). I'd really prefer his face over others, but it's hard to be picky when you're trying to get someone to be friends with the likes of Derek. As for the character's member group, it is entirely open, just so long as he can manage living and having a profession in London. On top of this, I do have a certain personality type in mind, but feel free to tweak things.<br><br>I imagined ______ being pretty intelligent to contrast with Derek's cluelessness, but also an avid partygoer, drinker and more than just a dabbler in the art of getting high, in an attempt to cope with the stressful lawyer business. _____ is also smooth and classy, but can still get a little sloppy when he's drunk or high. ______ often accompanies Derek on trips to bars and clubs and they act as each other's wingmen, with ______ charming girls into either sleeping with Derek or drunkenly signing a liability waiver before taking some suspicious looking tablet from him, and Derek unknowingly creeping girls (or indeed boys) out until they fall into _____'s arms.<br><br>But _____ doesn't offer his services for free. Like I said, _____ is an addict, and for a while now he has depended on Derek's expertise to give him stronger drugs, so in return he does his best to get him laid and keep him out of prison.<br><br>I also imagined that the two of them both consider themselves to be the type of people that don't form bonds or close friendships, and if asked about their friendship would immediately say that they were only in it for the benefits they received, but little do they know that deep down they really do care for each other and enjoy hanging out, and Derek would eventually start to worry more outwardly the deeper ____ spiraled into their addiction.<br><br>So that's the end of my ad. And clearly I don't know a whole lot about law so I apologize for most likely butchering whatever few legal things mentioned here, lol. PM me or reply to this thread if you have questions ♥

Another night, another club. The only question for Derek tonight was which one. He’d been to all the halfway decent ones at least twice, and all the shitty ones at least four times. Incredibly, he’d only been banned from one place, and not even for getting caught slipping things into people’s drinks, but instead for public indecency.<p>Tonight wasn't a night for experimentation, however. He’d had a long day at the lab, finally having found an effective small rodent repellent that was nontoxic to humans as well as most house pets – but only because <i>he</i> had been willing to run the proper tests. And tonight, all Derek was looking to do was get laid. He scoped out all the club entrances along the street as he sauntered down the sidewalk, long strands of greasy hair fallen in front of his dark, peering eyes. He wanted to see who was only letting in the babes tonight, as opposed to those letting in just about anyone. He wasn't up for a night of picking through fours and under, so he finally decided on a place whose bouncer had just turned away a couple of girls who he was 90% sure were wearing their grandmothers’ shoes. Perfect. Derek stalked to the front of the queue – to the displeasure of the rest of the club’s patrons, and smiled at the bouncer expectantly. The large, muscular man looked him up and down. He shook his head slowly, silently, and glanced back down at his clipboard. Derek scowled and glanced around the man to see if there was any other security in the way. Seeing no one, Derek glanced back at the bouncer, making sure he wasn't looking, and attempted to quickly slip past the big brute.</p><p>The bouncer easily stepped backward to block Derek’s path. The skinny man stumbled and moved back again. He huffed, then begrudgingly fished out some cash to shove into the bouncer’s big sweaty palm. The bouncer counted the money carefully, then looked Derek over once more before nodding and stepping aside. Derek rolled his eyes and went into the club, heading straight for the bar.</p><p><b>"Give me the strongest thing you have,"</b> he told the bartender as he settled back, elbows resting on the counter, and began scanning the joint for likely candidates. He was feeling blonde tonight, he decided. Tall and blonde.</p>

Derek leaned up against the washroom stall and listened to the sound of the girl inside puking her guts out into the toilet over the muted thumpa-thumpa of the club they were in.

<p><b>“There, there, Melanie,”</b> he called to her as he took down some notes in his small memo pad, <b>“you should recover within the next couple of hours.”</b> Emphasis on <i>should</i>. The drug he’d given her was only in its trial phase, and Melanie here was his first human test subject for it. His eyes flitted up from his notes when the stall door slammed open and a bedraggled looking blonde stumbled out, grasping at the sides for support. Derek vaguely remembered when he’d first approached her by the bar, completely smashed and eager to do whatever he asked for the money he was offering. She’d looked so sweet and innocent with her body glitter and nicely done makeup. Now she glared at him through her runny mascara.</p>

<p><i>“What the fuck did you give me?”</i> she growled. Derek tucked the memo pad in the inside pocket of his jacket and crossed his arms.</p>

<p><b>“I told you – that’s confidential.”</b></p>

<p><i>“Well you didn’t tell me that this would happen! What kind of psychopath are you?”</i> Her body didn’t seem to react well to the yelling because soon afterward she doubled over, grabbing her stomach like she was having cramps. <i>“Ughh…this was so not worth fifty quid.”</i></p>

<p>Derek sighed and pushed her a bit to the side to reach into the stall and get a couple pieces of toilet paper. Then he took the girl’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and wiped a bit of sick from the corner of her mouth with the toilet paper. <b>“Oh, sweetheart,”</b> he cooed. When he was done, he tossed the paper carelessly on the floor and looked into her eyes. They were dark and angry at first, but her gaze gradually softened as he continued to look at her. But when she tried to lean up, he stopped her. She looked confused, and he finished his thought. <b>“I know it’s not. I can’t imagine an amount of money that could make up for the physical trauma you’re about to go through.”</b> The girl’s mouth dropped open a bit and Derek patted her on the cheek, which seemed to have triggered another bout of vomiting. She hurried back into the stall to start the awful process all over again, although she seemed to be sobbing slightly more this time around. Derek dug through the pocket of his tight pants to pull out some folded up bills and tossed them onto the floor next to her.</p>

<p><b>“Take care, my dear,”</b> he told her and strolled out of the ladies’ restroom and back to the club to reward himself for his hard work by getting incredibly drunk and maybe taking some lucky lady home with him.</p>

</div><td><div class="atem8"><div class="atem9">→<b>abilities:</b> As a snake, Mr. Phineas was gifted with venomous fangs like those you would find on snakes like him in the ‘real world’. The difference between him and them, though, is that he had some amount of power over what the venom would do to his victim – rather handy for an assassin who sometimes just did kidnapping or espionage (or what he liked to call the boring jobs). After the change, however, Mamba was stuffed into this bulky human form and forced to adapt. His new body still bears some resemblance to what he once was, being quite skinny, quick and silent on his feet, and looking somewhat intimidating. He still isn’t too fond of it, but he's stuck like this nonetheless.</p>

<p>When the changes took place in Wonderland, Mamba found himself in the middle of a crisis. Without the abilities he’d once possessed, he was useless, not to mention bored. He ran off to London early on and never once returned, having no real ties to keep him there. Once in this new land, Mamba – now Derek – committed himself to relearning what he once knew, only this time, through toxicology books. He found that he had somewhat of a natural ability to understand these things, but it was still a long time before he was able to put this knowledge to use.</p>

<p>Derek had been wandering around a hardware store some time after he'd moved to London when he'd happened upon the aisle for pest control. He'd looked on the back of a box of rat poison and read the ingredients. "No, no, no," he'd tutted, shaking his head, "you poor, foolish humans. Is this a joke?" He'd rolled his eyes and was about to put the box back when a logo and an address caught his attention under the fine print. It was for the chemistry lab where the poisons were tested. Derek had hummed to himself and tucked the box into the pocket on the inside of his jacket and strolled off.</p>

<p>Nowadays, Derek works in a laboratory where he experiments with and produces toxins mainly for pest control purposes, though he has been asked on multiple occasions by anonymous donors to do some independent work to produce substances for their...special needs. Testing the quality and effectiveness of these particular chemicals, however, is something Derek can't usually do in the lab, so he'll do this on his own time with the set up he has at home, and paying (mostly) willing applicants he meets in the city to offer their meat suits for experimentation.</p>

<p>Among colleagues, Derek is known, ironically, as the Black Mamba, for his tendency to use the venom of such snakes in his experiments, as well as his apparent obsession with them. He's written multiple essays on them (although they were horribly written) and will often go on tangents about how they are clearly the superior creatures.</p>

<p>His employers are equally impressed as they are frightened by Derek's passion for the field, and he has more than once expressed his firm belief that the suffering of the pests is key to the effectiveness of the repellents. Most of his colleagues dislike the part of testing products on live animals, but Derek is known for enjoying it a little too much. Other professionals keep their distance as a result of this as well as his generally unappealing personality, but Derek has found purpose once more in this new world, so he doesn't care much at all.</p>

<p>During his down time, Derek likes to drink until he blacks out, along with picking up women using his newly acquired good looks. He’s not entirely fond of the human body for its limitations, but there are some benefits as well…if you know what he means. He works hard and he plays hard, but it's all for his own benefit. One of his bosses has even told him he has the potential to change science forever if he expanded his interests, but Derek has no intentions to do so. He's enjoying life exactly how it is now - entirely about him.</p>

autumn leaves has been skinned exclusively for far beyond the looking glass by asya.she would appreciate it if you didn't steal/use this skin without her permission.for full credits, please view the credits post here.